


In the Chamber of Council

by imsfire



Series: Fragments of the tale of the Ring [2]
Category: Rogue One: A Star Wars Story (2016), The Lord of the Rings (Movies), The Lord of the Rings - J. R. R. Tolkien
Genre: Angst and Feels, Backstory, Crossovers & Fandom Fusions, Fear, Gen, Hope, and a lot of talking, and setting up some of the ways each canon has been twisted to make them fit, and tragedy from the past, another chunk of this insane fusion, plot set up, treachery reported
Language: English
Status: Completed
Published: 2018-08-13
Updated: 2018-08-13
Packaged: 2019-06-27 02:29:57
Rating: General Audiences
Warnings: No Archive Warnings Apply
Chapters: 1
Words: 6,023
Publisher: archiveofourown.org
Story URL: https://archiveofourown.org/works/15676200
Author URL: https://archiveofourown.org/users/imsfire/pseuds/imsfire
Summary: A party of hobbits recently arrived in Rivendell attend the great Council of Elrond, where dark tales and sad truths are told, and difficult decisions must be made.





	In the Chamber of Council

The great council chamber was already packed when Luke and Bodhi entered.  It was an hour after breakfast; they’d eaten well, from a generous spread of good Elven bread and seed-cake, strawberry jam and new white cheese.  Perfectly fine for a healthy hobbit appetite.  But Luke was still getting over his illness and hunger came round again fast; when the ringing of a silver bell in the highest tower Rivendell summoned them to the meeting they had just decided to go in search of some small items of second breakfast.

As they came into the great hall Bodhi’s heart quailed and then began to beat faster at the sight of so many fine Elf-lords and ladies gathered there.  At the midst of the assembly a circle of wooden chairs like small thrones had been set.  Most of them were tall and straight, with high seats for long-legged elves, but some were lower, dwarf-sized, even hobbit-sized.  At least Luke would not be forced to stand for the meeting, so soon after his escape from the Riders and his dreadful fever.

More comforting still was the sight of two grey heads, partway round the circle, bowed together in whispered conversation.  Luke exclaimed loudly in pleasure at the sight and hurried to join his uncle and aunt, and Bodhi went swiftly after, slipping into the row of seats behind, where a number of stools stood as yet empty.  He kept his head down as best he might; for though the invitation had not specifically forbidden Luke to bring him, it certainly hadn’t invited Bodhi, either.

The stool was cushioned, and decidedly more comfortable than he had expected, and he settled with some relief.

In front of him Owen Lars was saying testily “Well, if I _must_ tell them then I suppose I must,” and his wife replied equally briskly “Yes, dear, you must.”

Owen glared at her, then patted Luke’s hand. 

“Well, Luke, my boy,” he said. “It’s all my fault and now I suppose I must take my medicine like a good hobbit child.  I’m sorry about this.” He glared again at Beru and then smiled ruefully.

“I’m sure it’s nothing so dreadful,” Luke said stoutly, though his face showed his confusion.

It sounded as though his uncle had been keeping secrets from him; poor lad, how in the name of light would he take such a thing?  Hoping it wasn’t the start of some new trouble for the family - for stars knew they’d had their share of troubles in the past – Bodhi looked around the room.

Vast arches of carved stone bore a high, white ceiling above them, and tall windows gave onto the valley and the morning sunlight.  Out in the distance he could discern the glow of early autumn leaves and the sparkle of water falling.  The air blowing in was fragrant and fresh.

He still found it hard to credit, that he was sitting here, in the council chamber of Rivendell, among so many lordly folks.  He, Bodhi Rook, a humble market gardener from Hobbiton.

The assembly was chiefly composed of richly dressed Elves but with here and there a scattering of the other Free Peoples.  Men he saw and Dwarves, but no other Hobbits except Luke and his family.

One group stood out by their darker colouring and simpler clothing, leggings and jerkins in shades of green and brown.  Wood Elves, he thought, pleased to have remembered some part of Owen’s teaching.  The leader of the group was a tall, slender elf with skin dark as midnight and calm eyes of a colour unreadably pale.  Flanking him on his left was an elderly dwarf with a long, white beard.  His belt and collar were studded with fine-worked gems and there were golden chains plaited in his snowy hair and beard.  He and the tall dark elf seemed to be friends, for they held their heads together and seemed to be murmuring quietly.

On the right of the party of Wood Elves Bodhi recognised Glorfindel, and Lindir the gatekeeper.  Next came two seats finer than the rest, where sate the Lord Elrond and his daughter, the heads of this Council.  With delight he noticed that the chair immediately beside Arwen’s was occupied by none other than Jyn, in her old travel-worn grey and brown clothes.  She met his eye  with the ghost of a smile in the lines round her mouth.

Beside the Master of the Last Homely House two more noble elves sat watching and waiting, and then came the familiar figure of Ben Kenobi, with his staff in his hand.  Where Jyn had allowed herself the barest flicker of a smile, he gave the two hobbits a broad and kindly grin.  Bodhi beamed back, greatly relieved.  If the wizard saw nothing wrong with both of them being there, he could feel a good deal more sure of himself.

To his other side, past Owen and Beru, were two more elf-lords and an elf-lady, all of them with hair of snow-white, though their skin was unlined, and rich robes of velvet and silk.  And then in the last chair there sat a man of the Big People.  Lean he was and strong of shoulder, and his dark eyes were keen as a hawk’s.  He wore a surcoat of black velvet embroidered with the device of a silver tree, and at his side he bore both sword and dagger, and a mighty horn tipped likewise in silver.  It seemed to Bodhi that his gaze returned time and again to one spot in the circle; to the seat of Arwen, or somewhere near to it.  Watching the elf-lady? – or the quiet woman beside her?  It was impossible to tell.

He was still trying to puzzle the young man out when there was a shuffling and a murmur at his side, and he looked round to see Baze, with a finger to his lips, and the smiling face of Chirrut, as they slipped into two empty stools next to his.

Ignoring the mimed request for quiet he hissed “What are you _doing_?”

“This one wanted to come, so…” Baze shrugged. “Shh, don’t give us away, or I’ll never hear the last of it.”

It was hard to believe they had not already given themselves away pretty thoroughly, creeping through the entire assembly like that with Baze guiding Chirrut, who it appeared was having one of his days when he felt he needed a steering hand. 

Chirrut looked to be gathering himself for some lively remark or other.  Then suddenly every other murmuring voice in the chamber fell silent.  Every eye turned as Elrond rose to his feet.

Calmly he looked around the whole gathering, and his grey eyes were sober to the point of sadness.  Yet when he spoke his words were not without light.

“Cruel and dark are the days, but a great hope I see here.  An assembly of Free Beings such as this has not been known for many years.  Here I behold Men and Women, of Gondor and of the North, standing shoulder to shoulder with Elves of all our peoples, as we stood once in days long past, to defend Middle Earth.  The Dwarf lords of the Lonely Mountain are here, and Halflings of the Shire also, and even Wizard-kind. 

“If all the races of elves and men, dwarves and halflings and istari, can come together, in despite of the many barriers between us, surely we can find among us all some remedy for the dangers that now face Middle Earth.

“Each of the five peoples here gathered has a part to tell, of the story of these days, their making and their coming; and each, I make no doubt of it, has their part to play in the days to come.

“Yet we cannot build or plan to end the woes that attend our world, until we understand how they came to be.  The Emperor of Night has arisen again in the east, and his towers stand high, and his fires belch forth flame.  Cruel indeed are the days, and may grow crueller yet.  But on this day, in this Council, we must decide how we may act, for all lives look to us for their safety and their hope, now in this darkest hour.  

“Therefore I call now upon the wizard Ben Kenobi the Grey, who is called Mithrandir by my people, to tell us the part of this tale that falls to him.  So, let us begin!”

Old Ben’s face was stern as he rose and took the floor, and gravely he told his tale.  Dark Riders he told of, and ancient knowledge, and other fearful things, of treason and faithlessness even in the heart of Isengard, where the head of his Order dwelled, Tarkin the White.  Parts of the story Bodhi knew already and other parts were unknown to him, and terrifying also.  After the wizard spake one elf-lord and then another, and then the old librarian, the Lady Jocasta of the House of Elrond.  Dreadful and sad were all their stories, and full of darkness, with histories of chances lost and folly rewarded, brave men slain and hopes foresworn.  Despite the warmth of the crowded room and the bright sunlight outside, Bodhi found himself shivering.

His heart quailed still further when Owen Lars stood up and told a part of his own tale that he’d never heard before.  He watched poor Luke’s eyes grew wide with horror at the account, for it was a terrible thing to hear, that his father had tried to drown his mother in a fit of madness.  At Bodhi’s side, Chirrut and Baze too had both stiffened in disbelief.  This was not the comforting story of a boating accident they had all been raised on.

“I could save only one of them,” Owen said in an agony of remembering “and Padme was too heavy with child to swim.  I pulled her from the water, but my brother was lost!” For a moment he bowed his head, breathing hard, before he could go on. “When I saw the sparkle of gold in the mud at my feet, I took the ring up and hid it, thinking it could be some memento to her of Anakin.  Then she took a fever in the lungs from all the water she’d breathed in, and it weakened her so much that when her time came, she died in childbed, and I had lost them both.” He looked down at Luke now and sadly he said “I should have told you long ago; but who wants to know that his own father could do such a thing?  I thought it was better you should know of Anakin Skywalker as a bold young hobbit who went adventuring with me and a band of brave dwarves, and met a dragon, and was an elf-friend.  Perhaps I did wrong, and I hope you’ll find it in you to forgive me if so, my boy.” 

Luke swallowed, and nodded his head; then standing up he embraced his uncle warmly before they both sat down again.  For a moment it seemed neither of them had words to speak.  Bodhi breathed again.  At least this horrible secret from long ago would not tear them apart.

Next to speak, the Lady Arwen described how she and Glorfindel had found their little party on the road, four hobbits, one of them desperately wounded, and one sole Ranger protecting them, and how they assisted them to come to Imladris; of Luke’s escape at the flooding of the ford, and the sweeping away of the Riders.  Then rose the reverend old Dwarf, and identified himself as Gloin, of the famous party of Thorin Oakenshield.  His voice was bitter as he spoke of a dark messenger who had offered both honey and threats to King Dain of Erebor a bare three weeks ago. “He knew of hobbits, and of the name of Skywalker,” he said. “And the Shire too he spoke of.   As soon as he left, King Dain sent me to warn you, Owen.  Glad I am that we have met here.”

The tall ebon-skinned elf spoke next, naming himself as Kayriel, the younger son of the Elvenking Thranduil of Mirkwood, and his story was of darkness too, of shadows spreading under the woods that once were green and merry, and a menace that grew in the South, whispering in its malignity. 

“We drive it out, but ever it returns,” he said. “And to speak plain, I think it means to stay, and challenge us for the freedom of the forest and its creatures, and their hope of life.  And so, though the Wood Elves have never been given to warfare in the past, we gather ourselves now to fight.”

Then at the last the dark-haired young man rose, though it seemed to Bodhi he would have preferred still to hang back and remain seated, observing and listening.  He named himself as Cassian, a Captain of Gondor and son of that city’s Steward. “I am here because of a dream, which all in my home who know anything of divining believed to be a wise one, and a foretelling.  I dreamed of a sky that grew dark and clouded with black night, coming from the east, and then a voice in the west, where there was yet a little light, cried out a riddle.  I dreamed of it many nights, and once my brother dreamed the same dream also.  Then our father thought it meet that we seek the meaning behind it.” He sighed. “The riddle spoke of Imladris, so here I am.  It spoke to of a sword that was broken, and I know now, you keep that sword here, for I beheld it with my own eyes last night.  But for the rest, all I know is that it is dark and foreboding and seems to warn of the doom of my city, and this I must prevent by any means possible.” Then closing his eyes momentarily he recited:

_Seek for the Sword that was broken_

_In Imladris it dwells;_

_There shall be counsels taken_

_Stronger than Morgul spells._

_There shall be shown a token_

_That Doom is near at hand,_

_For Isildur’s bane shall waken,_

_And the Halfling forth shall stand._

He sighed again as he opened his eyes, and it seemed to Bodhi that his gaze flew once more to Jyn.

As if in answer, she rose from her seat. “You’re right that this dream told of the shards of Narsil, by which we met and spoke last night.  Halflings also have you seen here.  As for this token your dream speaks of –“ and here for a moment her level voice shook, and softened, and then grew strong again – “I think that was meant for my brother.  For _Taith_ , which is to say _Sign_ in the Elvish tongue, we called him in his boyhood, and he was ever the very sign and token of our inheritance.”

Arwen looked down, and closed her eyes as if greatly troubled, or sad beyond measure.

“Who is this brother of yours?” asked Cassian, and there was a light in his eyes. “And who are you?  And what is this inheritance of which you speak?”

Elrond said gravely “The inheritance is that same which your father and your forefathers have held in trust these many years, until the King comes again.  For this lady is Jynarien, daughter of Galen son of Arathorn, and Aragorn son of Galen was her brother, who went into the dark.  Of his fate we know nothing more, save that he is lost to us.  But here in this chamber before you stands the last heir of the line of Isildur.”

Cassian’s eyes widened, half in hope and half shock. “It’s taught in Gondor that the heirs of the Northern kingdom have ever practised inheritance by daughters as well as sons,” he said in a rush. “It’s not the custom with my people, but – you – if you came to us – Isildur’s Heir, bearing the Sword of the King! – if _you **came**_ –“ His face was alight suddenly with a flame of hope.  But Jyn grew still, and shook her head at him silently, and sat down again.

There was a long hush, as the young man’s face fell, and his eyes became cold, and hard with sorrow.

“I had thought,” said Erestor, one of Elrond’s counsellors, breaking the silence at last “to see some emissary too from Rohan.  Master Kenobi, you were lately at Isengard.  Before you were forced to escape from thence, did you learn anything of Queen Breha and her people, and how she might choose to act?”

Ben shook his head. “All I know is that Rohan is already beset, by enemies coming from the coasts, and by raiders from Dunland.  I doubt the Riddermark has thoughts or riders to spare for yet more strife.”

Cassian was nodding bitterly in agreement.  He said “Word has reached us in Gondor that the Queen is away from Edoras on campaign almost constantly, while at home, her husband has come under some influence that urges him away from his old allies.  For their daughter, who once stood as an ambassador to my father’s court in Minas Tirith, has been withdrawn back to Rohan these many months.  There are rumours that the king seeks to marry her to one of his counsellors, though she has long been honour-pledged to one of our Gondormen, a high-hearted fellow whose spirit sparked with hers.  How long even a maiden as bold as she may resist the urgings of her father and her duty I cannot say.  But now, hearing this dark news of treachery from Tarkin the White, I am certain of this much; we can no longer rely on Rohan for help.”

Jyn bit her lip, and said nothing.  Erestor shook his head in sorrow. “Old alliances broken and marriages forced on the unwilling?” he said. “I see darkness and yet more darkness.”

The daylight outside was still bright, yet in the council chamber once again there fell a sad hush.

Ben cleared his throat. “Let us not forget the remainder of Lord Cassian’s dream.  Though we mislike even to think of it, I fear we must speak of Isildur’s Bane.  You have heard us all tell of the One Ring, of how it was found and of how the Enemy seeks it.  Yet few of us here has ever beheld it.  With your permission, Master Elrond, I propose we should all see the thing that has cost us already so much pain and loss.  Luke, if you would -? –“

Luke swallowed visibly as he rose, glancing down at his Uncle and Aunt, and back at Bodhi.  He stepped forward to the centre of the circle, and lifting the chain from about his neck he held it high, with the Ring swinging.  His expression was tense to the point almost of pain.  Then quickly, as if he had to move with decision before the chance was lost to him, he placed it on the low table in the centre of the room, and withdrew, and left it lying there.

He was breathing slightly fast as he came back to his seat, and Owen laid a shaking hand on his arm in reassurance.  Bodhi bit back the desire to embrace them both.

“Behold, the Enemy’s Ring,” said Ben. “Long sought by Palpatine, and by the Dark Riders, his servants.  And, we know now, sought also by Tarkin, to wreak we know not what evil from his base of Isengard.”

“If it’s been hidden so successfully all this time,” said Kayriel bluntly “why can it not stay there, in this place you call Shire, and remain hidden still?”

Ben shook his head. “The Dark Lord knows now that it was there.  So it can never safely be kept among the Shire-folk again.  Not safely for it, or for them.  Luke Skywalker and his companions, who you see here, brought it to us out of the Shire at great risk to themselves.  Without their courage we wouldn’t be having this meeting at all.  We cannot require of them that they simply turn around and take it back again.  They’d be lucky to get further than the farther bank of Anduin before they were caught.”

Bodhi shuddered, remembering the shrieks of the Dark Riders as they bore down upon Luke and Arwen at the ford.

The Gondorman Cassian was staring fixedly at Luke. “My dream spoke of _A_ Halfling, not a half-dozen of them.  Are you the one it meant?”

Luke’s throat worked for a moment before he answered quietly “I hope not, sir.”

Owen glowered. ”My nephew has done enough already, I’ll thank you to remember.  My good wife and I didn’t bring him up by hand from infancy just for him to get swept away to some great city of the Big People and lose his life in a fight that isn’t his.  Luke is going to be a good farmer.”

“Yes,” Luke said, somewhat less decisively than his uncle. “I’m going home, to be a farmer, not a fighter.”

_Home_ , thought Bodhi.  _Please, yes, let us go home_.  He’d dreamed of adventures and elves all his life, but after these last weeks he’d had enough of both to last him a good long while.

Cassian gestured now towards the table, and the golden ring that lay gleaming there. “You all speak of this as if it were a mighty weapon.  Yet no-one here even thinks to take it up and use it?  Surely it’s the greatest folly to have such a gift to hand and not use it?”

“The One Ring is no gift.” Elrond’s face was bitterly sad now. “It is a corruption beyond the strength of any here to control.  Even me – even Master Kenobi.   If any one of us were to try and use it, it would overpower them and twist their will, and destroy them.  It would betray us all into Mordor’s hands.  I have seen its power in action.  Do not think of controlling the Ring, Lord Cassian.  It is a thing of Mordor and ever shall be.  There is nothing can turn it to the Light.”

Cassian looked away, and his face was cold with unhappiness. “I understand.  It is only that - my city will die, if we do not find some way to stop Palpatine!  Minas Tirith will hold back the dark tide to the last man and woman, we will hold till we are utterly overwhelmed.  But when we are gone –“ there were tears in his eyes for a moment – “when we are gone, then there is _nothing_.”

“There is still hope.” Arwen spoke softly but with ardent conviction, and beside her, Jyn’s hand tightened on her sword hilt.

Cassian looked over, and he gazed at the two of them like one transfixed; the tall Elf Lady with her dark evening beauty, and the short fierce woman sitting with her.  His brows knit and he said sadly “I know there is still hope.  For as long as our hearts endure there is always hope, and I refuse to be that man who says to his fellows _despair and flee, despair and die_ …  Yes, there is still hope; but it seems to me it is far off, and I cannot now perceive its form.”

Arwen glanced once at Jyn, but gave to the man no reply.

“There _is_ hope,” Elrond spoke firmly into the hush.  “As yet the Enemy is unaware that we know what the Ring is.  Unaware that we plan, that we gather ourselves, that we prepare for war.  And he, who sees all things only as tools to greater power, would never comprehend that someone possessing the Ring would not try to use it.  His eye is bent always to find some opponent taking up this weapon and trying to wield it.  He has no idea we seek a different path.  He thinks us blind to his plans, but it is he who is blind to ours, and maybe this will buy us time to do what must be done.”

“And what must that be?  What can we do?” Lady Jocasta’s voice was weary. “Master Kenobi tells us he has scoured the annals of Isengard and of Gondor, Lady Arwen and I have searched likewise through the archives of this house.  And from these searches, and from all our knowledge, we have learned only that the Ring cannot be used and it can no longer be hidden.  It can only be destroyed.”

Arwen said “We must therefore attempt that.”

Her face and her tone were resolute; but again she glanced aside at Jyn.  Across the room, Kayriel was nodding emphatically in agreement.

“But how?” said Beru, speaking loudly and truth to tell somewhat crossly. “When I saw how that – that _thing_ \- can get a hold on a person, I tried to smash it.  I hit it with a granite pestle.  I put it in the fire.  It took not a scratch, it didn’t so much as get hot!  It’s no normal gold, I tell you.”

“Indeed so,” said Elrond. “The only way to destroy the One Ring is in the flame where it was forged, in the heart of Mount Doom.  At Orodruin, the fire mountain of Mordor.”

The silence was total, this time.  It seemed to Bodhi that for a clear half minute no-one so much as breathed in the whole council chamber.  The Lady Arwen hung her head, with eyes full of pain.  Jyn settled a hand on her shoulder, a gentle touch like a sister’s, and the elf lady pressed her hand back wordlessly.

At last Cassian stirred and said “You tell me the last heir of Isildur stands before me – but she refuses her title.  You tell me a mighty weapon is here at hand, but that none may wield it and escape being corrupted by it.  You talk of hope, and then say this?” He sighed; then with a breath he set his shoulders back, and his gaze became firm and calm once again. “Very well.  I sought the counsel of the wise, and now I must accept it.  Someone must go to Mordor with this thing.  I will give what aid I can, even in this most desperate of tasks, but I do not see how we may achieve it.”

Jyn rose to her feet, and all eyes turned to her, but Bodhi saw how her eyes met those of Cassian across the room. “I know, Captain of Gondor, believe me I know, how hard it is not to despair sometimes.  Bold men and brave have tried to storm the gates of Mordor, or to come against that land by other paths.  If even my own brother –“ once again her voice shook almost imperceptibly – “if even he could not conquer the way into that fastness of evil, how can we hope to?”

“Do not despair,” said Ben. “Despair is for those who already know their end.  We do not know where our path leads, only that the way will be hard and dangerous.  But destroy the Ring we must, and now it is to decide between us whose task it will be.”

“The Enemy would look to see an army,” Elrond said “so we must confound his expectation in this also.  This is a task that may be the more easily done by the few and the small, by those who may pass unnoticed through the wild ways of the world.  And I think that is meet, for now is the time when those who have lived unregarded may rise from their quiet fields, and make their own mark at last upon the fate of the world.”

In front of Bodhi , Owen stood up again with a little grunt of effort.  In a rueful kind of good humour he said “I think I spy your meaning, Master Elrond, though you’re kind enough to say it so poetically.  If Owen the silly hobbit and his brother had had more common-sense twenty years ago, none of this need have happened in the first place.  Anakin can’t fix his mistakes anymore, but fair’s fair as we say in Hobbiton; he was my brother so I’ll fix them for him.  When ought I to start?”

Around the assembly there were smiles here and there, but they were not mocking.  Rather they were grave and full of respect, the smiles of long friendship, and of seeing an old friend unchanged despite the passage of years.  Ben stroked his beard, Elrond his chin.

Before either could speak, Beru tugged on her husband’s sleeve. “I’m not having you go off on another quest.  Once was enough.  Owen, please.”

“I ought to have stopped him then,” Owen protested. “I ought to stop this now, shouldn’t I?”

“I honour your offer, Master Owen,” Elrond said “but, forgive me, old friend, I don’t think even a heart as valiant as yours has the strength to undertake a journey like this at your age.  It is a task for the young and strong of arm.  You have done your share, and earned your rest.  Remain here at peace, and write their chronicle when they return.”

But who would _they_ be, Bodhi wondered.  No-one seemed any the nearer to answering that question, and it was gone lunch-time.

Then his heart lurched in horror; for in front of him once again, Luke stood up.  Very quietly he said “Uncle Owen is right, this thing falls to my family.  You said as much yourself, back in the Shire, Ben.” He took a deep breath. “I will take the Ring, though I do not know the way.”

Elrond and Ben both bowed their heads gravely in assent.

“It is well said, Luke,” the wizard said “and I believe it’s right that this task should fall to you.”

_Oh!_ thought Bodhi, and before his heart could knock its way clean out of his ribs he straightened and stood up, and raised his voice. “I hope – I hope you’re not thinking of sending him alone.” Luke looked round, blue eyes wide with feeling, and Bodhi went on quickly “Please don’t go without me, Luke.  I’ll go with you and keep you company, so that you won’t be alone in the darkness, I promise.”

Luke hugged him, seeming too moved for words, and they stood together, smiling at one another as though they had not just made a most desperate choice. 

A sudden brilliant smile flashed across Jyn’s face, and the Wood Elf Kayriel raised his brows and then grinned.

“Well, what strength is mine in this life,” said he “of hand and eye, of bow and sword, I will pledge to you, Ringbearer, and to your companions, whoever they shall be, to serve you and keep you safe.”

“I too will offer myself and my service, such as they are,” Jyn said; and the two of them left their seats and came across, to join Bodhi and Luke.

“As do I,” said Cassian, and he too came to their side. “My sword, and the swords of Gondor, to aid you in whatever way I can.” And as if to Jyn alone with great feeling he added “For you are right, we cannot give up hope.”

“I too will go with you,” said Ben, to Bodhi’s very great relief “for Luke is under my especial protection.  And even a hobbit as determined as Master Bodhi here cannot watch over him every hour of every day.”

“I would’ve come with you faster than a rolling boulder,” said Gloin from his seat. “Owen, you know I would!  But I’m an old fellow now and stiff in the knees, I’d only slow you down.  I should have asked my boy to come with me, he’d’ve been dancing at the thought of all the axe-work.  I am sorry.”

Elrond stroked his chin.  For the first time all day he seemed glad instead of grave and dark of thought. “Two of humankind and two hobbits, a wizard and an elf.  It wants but three more and we shall have a fellowship of nine, to go against the Nine Riders.  I will think on which among my Captains might best –“

A crisp voice interrupted him, right at Bodhi’s side. “I hope you’re not thinking you can keep us from going with our cousin.”

“Chirrut, no!” hissed Baze, exasperated, and as always, too late.  Chirrut turned to him with a smile of serene mischief.

“They’ll need someone sensible to keep them company.”

Baze groaned. “Then I’ll go with them too.  Ben, you know I’ll go with Chirrut, right?”

“Indeed I do.”

“Good fellows,” muttered Owen stoutly, while Beru raised her eyes in affectionate disbelief at the bravado of young hobbits.

“Master Chirrut,” said Elrond kindly “I honour the courage of your offer, but I would be remiss if I allowed one on whom fate has already dealt such a cruel hand to undertake as dangerous a journey as this.   Remain here at Rivendell in safety, with Master Owen and Mistress Beru.  A blind hobbit can play no part in this quest.”

“You’ll have to put me in a sack if you want to stop me,” Chirrut replied “and sling me over a horse’s back and carry me all the way home to Tookland; and even then I’ll still come running after them.  After all, Baze is going, and I’m not leaving him.”

Elrond sighed, staring; then allowed himself a rueful smile. “Far be it from me to turn away volunteers,” he said. “The heart that pledges itself freely, pledges itself whole.  Very well.  That leaves but one more of the party to choose.  As I was about to say, Lord Glorfindel, would you - ? –“

But he was interrupted again.  The Lady Arwen laid a fair hand on his sleeve. “Father,” she said, and no more; but at that one word Elrond’s face became dark, and “No!” he said “Please, no!”

Arwen stood up from her chair.  She swept back her long silk robe, and beneath it they saw she was clad in the same clothes she had worn on the road, and her sword was at her hip. “I will go with them.  I must.  I know you have foreseen our separation, Father.” And she knelt before Elrond with both fire and tears in her eyes. “I beg of you, do not gainsay me.  I must follow Aragorn and go where he has gone, and discover what was his fate.  I took an oath with him, Father.”

Her father sat still as a mountain, and long grief showed in his face.  He shut his eyes, like one who wished to see no more. 

Arwen said again “You have foreseen it, and I must go.” She raised her head then and looked about the assembly, and at the little party of hobbits, and a smile came to her lips. “Master Luke, will you have me also beside you on the road once again?”

“Gladly,” said Luke in a tone of wonderment. “And I’m sure I speak for us all in that.”

“Hard it is, to bid farewell to my own child on such a quest as this,” said Elrond. “But I cannot prevent it.” He looked up, and forced a little smile of pain. “Nine walkers then you shall be.  Take your road south and then east, over the mountains.  Go well, my daughter.  Do not forget me, and the hope of your people.”

Arwen rose, and came across the circle, to join the rest of the party.

_Well,_ Bodhi thought, _so we are nine, and I know it’s the luckiest number and all that.  But truly, we’ll need luck and elf magic and swords and all, and every scrap of courage we have.  For this is a journey beyond all my imagining._

Nonetheless, when Luke caught his eye, he thrust all such doubts down deep, and smiled with the strongest courage he could find in him.  For better or for worse, he’d made a promise, and he intended to keep it, every last step of the way.


End file.
